Trying Not To Change Things
by sweetburgundy
Summary: Isobel battles with her feelings for Dr. Clarkson and explores why she can't accept his proposal. (Rating may change with further chapters)
1. Acknowledgement

**A/N: This idea has been bothering me for a while but it's been a bit of a struggle to get it down on paper how I would like it. Please let me know if I should continue and if it's working or not (and maybe what you would like to see happen). Reviews make me happy so feel free to comment/criticise/anything you want to say.**

* * *

"Isobel… please…" he gasped, unable to find the willpower to push her away. She pressed her lips gently against his, silencing him and removing the last barrier of resistance. Her hands began loosening the buttons of his shirt, pulling off his white overcoat, making him weak at the knees. He couldn't deny that he had wanted this for a very long time, but not like this – not after what she had said. He took hold of her wrists as they worked at his clothing, stopping her from going any further.

"Isobel…" he was breathless, unable to speak. He was aware that his cheeks were flushed and he was breathing heavily.

"I thought you wanted this," she said pulling away from him, disappointment clouding her face.

"I want this more than anything, but it's not enough."

He couldn't bear to see the look on her face – her eyes had darkened and she suddenly looked weak and vulnerable. He was aware of the amount of courage it had taken to kiss him like that and he admired her for it but he wished her bravery didn't stop there.

"You turned me down, Isobel," he said, sliding his hands down the soft skin of her wrists to take her hands in his. He squeezed her delicate fingers. "You know how I feel about you and it's not fair. I would have married you in a heartbeat, so it seems improper to take from you when you don't feel enough to say yes."

"I have my reasons, Richard," she sighed, pulling her hands away from him and turning to face the window.

"I wish you would tell me."

"I told you back then. I like my life, Richard, and I don't want to change things," she said. She was biting her lip now, a nervous habit he usually found endearing.

"That's not a valid excuse, Isobel. Not after today," he said walking calmly towards the door. She turned around, a puzzled look on her face. "If you're trying not to change things, you're not doing very well."

"Richard…"

He had decided he needed to be tough with her. His own heart had suffered enough, so it was time that she made a decision one way or the other. After she had turned down his proposal (if you could call it that), he had convinced himself that Isobel Crawley would never love him back. Yet here she was, mere months later, begging him to take her into his arms, into his bed. It had been a struggle to resist, but he needed to be sure of her motives before taking anything from her that she might grow to resent.

"Goodbye, Isobel. I will see you in the morning?"

She didn't reply but he saw a single tear run down her porcelain skin before she managed to turn her face away from him. He prayed she would be alright, but she needed this to bring her to her senses.

* * *

Isobel sat in his chair in the office long after he had gone. The sun had almost set and knew she would have to leave soon but she had so much to think about. She looked at the neat piles of papers, thinking of his strong, deft fingers leafing through them. She noticed the pencils had little tooth marks on the end and she smiled at the thought of him chewing absent-mindedly when he was worried or annoyed. Everything about him made her smile and it was a comfort to be in his office even if he was no longer there – even if he was upset with her.

She stood up with a sigh. In his office, surrounded by all his things and the beautiful colours of the sunset pouring through the window, she could almost admit that she was in love with him. She knew, of course, that she had feelings for him or she wouldn't have behaved like she did today - but to say that she loved him was something else. There had been several men in her life – a long time ago, admittedly - she would have kissed but not necessarily married. That honour had been for one man and one man only. He was gone but she thought of him every day, his memory as strong as ever. She loved him as much now as she did when he was alive and in many ways, she saw her life as a countdown to when she could be with him again. But did that mean she couldn't be happy in the meantime? Isn't that what Reginald would have wanted for her?

Was it possible to love two men at the same time?


	2. On Your Side

**A/N: Thank you for the wonderful feedback. As ever, let me know what you think!**

* * *

There was a knock at the front door. Richard looked up from his paperwork, puzzled but hopeful as he glanced at the clock. It was 8.30pm; just starting to get dark but not too late if she wanted to come to him. She hadn't turned up at the hospital that morning, an unusual occurrence, but he wasn't surprised. He had given her a lot to think about.

"Good evening," she said almost shyly as he opened the door a crack. She flashed a smile that didn't quite meet the eyes, all teeth and vulnerability. "I wondered if I might come in for a moment."

"Of course," he said, stepping aside to let her in. He could smell her familiar scent in the air as she brushed past him - vanilla and something sweet – and he felt himself weaken again in her presence. Heaven knew, if she were to kiss him now, it would be the undoing of him.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to pounce on you again," she said as though she had read his mind. He could see by her face, tight and drawn, that she was in a serious mood. She'd had something on her mind that was worrying her and he wondered if he had pushed her too far. Feeling guilty, he led her into his small but comfortable sitting room and waited for her to begin.

"I've been thinking about what you said yesterday and I would like to explain myself," she said, sitting upright on the edge of his armchair, her hands in her lap. Her voice was even but she wasn't meeting his eye. "I don't make a habit of jumping on men, as I hope you know…"

"I can't imagine you do, Mrs Crawley," he chuckled, aware that this was probably the wrong course of action to take. She didn't return his smile.

"I feel very strongly for you, Dr Clarkson. I always have, but I put those feelings down to something else – loneliness perhaps. When those feelings started to appear, I tried telling myself that I must be mistaken, we were just close friends and that was all."

"I understand, Mrs Crawley. If you think I want…"

"You don't understand," she interrupted. "This is all a complete mess and it's my fault. I should never have put you in that position yesterday, Dr Clarkson. It was unfair of me when I know what you want. The thing is, I now understand why I can't give you that; I've known all along but I just couldn't admit it to myself."

Richard watched her face carefully, a little concerned at how agitated she was becoming. He wanted to soothe her, rub her shoulders, comfort her, but he knew that she needed to continue.

"I am in love with you," she said finally, tears starting to roll down her cheeks. "But I'm still in love with my husband. It's not right to love two men at the same time."

"Oh, Isobel," said Richard, reaching out to hold her hand, using her first name in the hope of comforting her. She gripped his hand firmly, breathing heavily as she fought back tears.

"Am I a terrible person?" she said, looking him in the eye for the first time. "I've treated you so badly."

"Of course not. I don't blame you, Isobel, but you should have told me how you were feeling."

"I don't know what to do, Richard," she said, looking at him with pleading eyes. _Make it all go away. Make this better for me; I can't stand it anymore._

"Come here," he whispered, pulling her gently towards him, cradling her in his arms. "You do whatever you feel is right, Isobel. I will wait forever for you, if that's what you want but if not, I'm happy just to be a part of your life. Whatever you choose, I'm on your side."


	3. Expectations

**A:N/ I'm messing with time a bit here. Matthew has not yet had his accident even though Richard proposed not long before that. I'm sure with a bit of imagination it can work! **

"Tea, Isobel?"

"Please," she responded with a smile. She had been happier these last few days; it seemed her confession had done her good and things were gradually getting back to how they used to be but something still lingered in the air between them.

"Tell me about your husband, Isobel," said Richard gently, setting down the teapot on his desk. "That is, if you want to."

He wanted to know more about the man that had captured Isobel's heart so many years ago and still had such a firm hold on her even after death. He needed to know more, needed Isobel to talk about him but he was still aware of her fragility. To his surprise, she smiled at him over her teacup.

"No one has ever asked me before. Maybe they think it's too painful for me, but I just think they aren't interested."

"Well, I'm interested," he said, returning her smile and settling into his chair.

"He was a wonderful man, kind and funny but he had a serious side. He was dedicated to his work and that's what drew me to him in the first place. Coming from a family of doctors, I understood him well, even though it wasn't easy at times."

"How so?"

"You of all people know what doctors are like. They work around the clock, work the first and last thing on their mind. I can't deny that sometimes it was tough but he always made an effort, especially when Matthew was born, to put me first. You could say the devotion he put into his work also extended to his family. I never felt second best, even when he was at the hospital for days on end and when I trained as a nurse, he made me feel like I was truly needed."

"He sounds like an exceptional man," said Richard, taking a sip of tea.

"Oh, I'm not going to pretend he was perfect. He had his faults but then again, so do I."

"You do surprise me, Isobel," mocked Richard, eliciting a small giggle from her. "Does Matthew take after him?"

"I see a little more of him in Matthew everyday," she said, a sad look suddenly crossing her face. "Sometimes I wish he could see Matthew now. He would be so proud, especially with the baby on the way any day now."

Richard felt a sudden pang of sympathy. He hadn't thought of how difficult it must be for her with a grandchild on the way and no one to share the joy of becoming a grandparent with. He had been so impatient with her; it was unfair of him to expect her to marry him when she already had so much to deal with. She might not want to change things, but things were changing and she couldn't stop it. She didn't need to be pushed anymore; she needed holding steady until the waters calmed and she was ready to open herself up again.

"If it's too painful…"

"I want to, Richard. It helps to talk." She took another sip of tea, her expression unreadable. "Matthew has been my reason for living these past years and I don't know what I would have done without him. He wasn't very old when Reginald died – eleven or twelve maybe – but he was the strong one. I would wake up wondering how on earth I was going to get through the day and then he would come into my bedroom, all smiles and laughter. I knew I needed to be a mother to him – no time for self-pity. He gave me a reason to live."

"You're a strong woman, Isobel. Nobody can deny that."

"Maybe," she said sighed quietly, her expression glazing over as she lost herself in thought. Richard allowed her some time to gather herself together again– it must have taken a lot of courage to open up like that. She cleared her throat suddenly.

"I was wondering if you might allow me a few days away from the hospital?" she said, her eyes sharp and focused again.

"Of course. Are you ok?"

"Fine," she said, setting her teacup down on his desk. "I just have an errand to run and it might take me a while. Please don't ask, Richard. I'd rather not say."

* * *

After she had left, Richard had spent a little longer in his office thinking about everything she had said, staring absent-mindedly at her teacup. He noticed a smudge of pale pink lipstick on the edge and tried not to think too hard about the moment she had pressed her lips softly against his. He groaned out loud – he might be healing Isobel Crawley but he was damaging himself.

_She loves me,_ he reminded himself firmly. _She loves me and I love her. Even if she doesn't think she could ever be with my like that, she has said those words. Isn't that enough?_

He wished he had never asked about Reginald Crawley. He had known beforehand that he could never compete with him or replace him in anyway, but now he was overwhelmed by what he would be expected to live up to. _If we were to marry, I would be a disappointment. I can't be Reginald Crawley._


	4. Letting Go

"It's been a while," said Isobel, arranging the flowers she had brought at the foot of the gravestone. "I know you hate the idea of flowers but it seems wrong to visit and not bring you anything."

She could hear his voice in the wind, gently teasing her. _There's no room for sentimentality in this life Bel, but they are very beautiful._

"I'm afraid I've neglected to visit you very often since we moved away. It's all been for a good cause though. Oh Reginald, I wish you could see Matthew now – married and with a baby on the way. You would have been so proud."

_I am proud, my darling, so very proud – of both of you. _

"I've had to take a few days off from the hospital to visit you, but it's something I've needed to do for a long time."

_ I always told you that you were a fine nurse, Bel, and you never believed me. I realise I'm not the only one who thinks so highly of you._

Isobel looked into the distance, hands clasped in front of her, taking several deep breaths. After leaving Richard's house, she had packed her bags for a short trip to Manchester. The journey wasn't too long but she had spent the day visiting places that filled her with bittersweet memories – old haunts, their house, the hospital where they used to work together. Her heart ached as she took in the familiar sights, imagining Reginald holding the front door open for her, sweeping down the front steps. She could almost hear his voice echoing through the corridors of the hospital, deep and authoritative, or feel his strong arm around her waist in their favourite spot in the park. Everything was so painfully the same, but something new had dawned upon her.

"Everything has changed, Reginald; I'm the one who has stayed the same. I haven't moved on."

_You've spent so long trying to change other people's lives, you have forgotten about yourself, Isobel. You're a reformer, you always have been so why are you so afraid of the future?_

"I've always been afraid of any kind of future without you."

_I told you something very important before I died and I meant it, Bel. Do you remember?_

"But I have to face the future and I don't think I can do it alone. If someone else made me happy, I know you wouldn't begrudge it but I can't bear to leave you behind."

_Do you remember, Bel?_

"You told me to let you go. You told me to be happy."

_There we go. That's what I want for you. I don't want you to spend your life alone, not when I know that someone cares for you as deeply as I do. I know you care for him too and if I can't be there, the best I can hope for is that you make the most of your life. You have to let me go._

"I never wanted to. I thought I could cling to your memory for the rest of my life and survive."

_Survival isn't enough._

"But for the first time since I lost you, I feel like I _want_ to be happy. I want to move on. I've spent so long trying to keep things the same and I'm afraid the world has left me behind. It's time for me to catch up and carry on living."

_One thing will never change though, my darling. I will always love you._

Wiping a tear from her eye, Isobel turned her back on the simple gravestone. This visit had made her see how far she had come since that terrible Autumn day when she lost her husband – it had also shown her how far she had to go. The world carried on turning and she could not stop it. The most she could do was to move along with it and accept the changes it brought to her life.

"I'll always love you, Reginald," she whispered into the wind. "I hope I'm making the right choices."

As she walked away, the sun warm on her face, the wind blew gently on her skin like warm, caressing fingertips.

_Everything's fine, Isobel. Let me go._


	5. Healing

**A/N: I just can't stop writing for some reason! I hope you're enjoying it and apologies again for the weird timescale I've put on things. I hope my reasons will become clear soon. Thank you again for the amazing feedback and please continue to tell me what I'm doing right/wrong and if you would like me to carry on.**

Richard held her tightly, his nose buried in her hair, his hands rubbed soothing patterns on her back, stopping only to wipe away the tears that ran down her cheeks. She had gone straight to him on her return from Manchester, falling apart instantly in his arms.

"I'm ready to let go, Richard," she whispered into his shoulder. "It still hurts but I'm ready."

"Then I'm here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, take it."

She clung to him desperately, her fist curled into his shirt, as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat. He was her lifeline, her only piece of safety in these stormy waters and she must put her trust into him, completely and unreservedly. Letting go of one thing was hard enough; she would cling to Richard with all the strength she had until she could hang on no longer, until the waters were calm and she could swim again.

Richard's heart broke with every sob that shook her small frame, every tear that fell into her lap. He knew her scars ran deep and he felt so helpless – it would take a lot of time and patience to heal this beautiful woman, a lot of pain and frustration, but he was ready. He had never been more ready for anything in his life. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it by her side, holding her up and never letting her regret putting her trust in him.

After a while, her sobs lessened and her breathing calmed. He briefly wondered if she had fallen asleep but she turned to look at him, her face tear-stained and her hair falling haphazardly around her face.

"I don't want to be alone," she said, strength returning to her voice.

"You don't have to be."

* * *

The family had gone to Scotland for several days despite Mary being heavily pregnant. The baby was almost due but Mary was insistent that she was perfectly fit to travel – so they went. Matthew had been hesitant but Mary had her way in the end and Isobel had waved goodbye at the station, fighting back tears even though she knew it was only for a few days.

The family's departure meant that she found more time to spend alone with Richard. After her return from Manchester, she had barely spent a night without him, albeit with him curled up on the sofa and her in his bed. It was a perfectly innocent arrangement but Isobel still felt something bubbling underneath the surface – it made her uncomfortable to be taking so much from Richard without giving anything back. She had as good as said she would marry him – eventually – maybe now it was time to move things along. She had to keep moving forward before she had the chance to look back.

* * *

That evening when dinner was finished, they sat together companionably on the sofa with their usual cup of tea. Richard always made sure to keep a respectable distance from her – _he thinks I'm not ready_, Isobel thought - but today she was going to change that.

"Can you remember that day in your office that started all of this?" she asked boldly.

"When you … yes, I remember it well," he replied, his cheeks flushing at the memory.

"When I kissed you?" She was starting to enjoy teasing him and it gave her courage to see how nervous, how flustered he became under her gaze. "Did you like it, Richard? Did you like kissing me?"

"Isobel… I don't know what you… What do you want?"

She took a deep breath; she was too close now to go back but the memory of the way he had rejected her was fresh in her mind. _Things are different now. I've let go, I need this to move on or we will stay as we are forever. I have to do this._ She could smell the light fragrance of his aftershave on his warm skin, their faces only inches apart now. She could see the fear and desire in his eyes, mixed in one glorious storm, and at that moment she knew it was going to be all right.

"Isobel," he whispered, bringing his hand to her cheek. "Only if you're sure."

Their lips met, gently at first, tasting the exquisite flavor of being together, savoring this moment that had been so long in coming. Tongues teased and teeth bit, slow and tantalizing, confidence growing with every second that passed. Isobel brought her hand to the back of Richard's head, deepening the kiss, her tongue demanding entrance between his lips, which he granted with a low moan. Things were moving faster now. Hands explored bare skin and tousled hair, lips never parting. He took her hair down, pin by pin, letting it cascade around her shoulders, down to her waste. _A honey waterfall_ he thought, stifling a groan as he ran his fingers through its delicate softness.

Isobel broke the kiss first, pulling gently away. She noticed that his eyes were half closed with desire, his lips swollen where she had teased them so thoroughly with her own.

"Hold me tonight," she said, cupping his jaw in her hand. She felt a sense of release after their kiss – freedom that she hadn't felt in a long time. It was no longer sadness and guilt that filled her heart but a desire to love this man who had given her so much. She was truly starting to heal.


	6. Saying Yes

**A/N: A short update as I'm struggling for time to write but hopefully the next chapter will move things along further. Your reviews make my day and keep me going so please let me know what you think!**

Warm morning sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains as Isobel stretched out, cat-like and content. Richard's arm lay over her waist, their legs loosely tangled beneath the soft cotton bed sheets. Isobel didn't think she had ever slept better in her life and she relished the feeling of the warm body pressed so closely to hers. _This is perfection_, she thought, turning slightly in his arms so she could touch his face gently with the very tips of her fingers.

"Morning, my love," she whispered, giggling as he scrunched up his face against her touch. "It's time to get up."

"I'm never getting up," he said, his voice still heavy with sleep, drawing his arm more tightly around her. "Can't we stay here forever?"

"We may have forever, Richard but unfortunately, we can't spend it all here."

"Do you mean it, Isobel? Would you really spend forever with me?" His heart was pounding now in his chest as she slipped her hand under the covers to find his. "You don't have to give me an answer now, but you know what I'm asking."

"Yes. Yes to everything. This is what I want."

He pulled her round to face him, his expression one of pure joy; it was so good to finally hear those words from her lips. Although he knew her intentions after her visit to Manchester, she had never said it in so many words. Heaven knew, it was enough to just have her like this in his arms; he barely dared to believe that she had just accepted his proposal.

"Marry me, Isobel Crawley. Please. Just marry me."

"I will," she whispered, pressing her lips against his, her eyes flickering shut with desire. "Of course I will."

Richard kissed her back with a passion he didn't know himself capable of. His tongue pushed against her soft, full lips until they parted, allowing him to taste her fully, stifling her groans as his hands explored her body. _We've got to stop. This isn't proper._

Her hands were in his hair, her body arching in desire as she reacted to his kiss. She could feel her reaction to him against her hip and it shocked her that she could still have this effect on a man – it scared her too. Richard felt her stiffen slightly, bringing him back swiftly to his senses.

"Isobel…" he whispered, pulling away from her, planting one last kiss gently on her lips. "We've got to stop. I don't want to push things too far with you."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I want to. I'm just scared."

"You don't have to be scared of anything with me, my love," he wiped the tear from her eye before it fell. "We have the rest of our lives to look forward to."

"I love you," she whispered. He wasn't sure at first that he had heard her correctly but when he saw the shy look in her eyes as she lay in his arms, he knew exactly what she had said. She had said once before that she was in love with him, but this was somehow different. The tone of her voice, the warm glow of the sun on her skin and the vulnerability with which she laid herself open to him with those three small words, tugged at his heart. This was more than he'd ever dared to dream.

"I love you too, Isobel Crawley."


	7. New Beginnings

**A/N: I found this very difficult to write, so I hope you will forgive me. I've been dreading this scene (I don't do happiness very well!), so I guess the fact that it is down on paper is an achievement in itself! Please keep reviewing, it keeps me going!**

* * *

"I see. Yes, yes, I will tell her right away!" He put the phone down with a clatter, jumping to his feet in excitement. He left his office like a whirlwind, the door banging behind him, cursing Isobel's recent inability to stay still for more than two minutes at a time. Her mood had improved dramatically in the few days since their engagement and she was going about her life with a fresh zeal that he had never thought that even she was capable of. She was vivid, full of life and joy.

"Mrs Crawley!" he swept quickly through the ward, calling her name before grabbing the nearest startled nurse. "Where's Mrs Crawley?"

The nurse began to point to a nearby storeroom but Richard was already through the door before she could speak, his sudden entrance alarming Isobel.

"Richard! What on earth…"

"Mary's on her way to the hospital! I've just had a telephone call. It's the baby!"

Isobel clapped a hand to her mouth in surprise. "Oh my goodness! But isn't she in Scotland?"

"She came back ahead of the others. She's on her way in now so we had better get ready." He took Isobel's hand, squeezing it gently. Her happiness was electric; he could feel it coursing through her veins. "Are you ok, my darling?"

"I'm not sure," she said, half-delirious. "I'm so incredibly happy, but God knows, I've never been more nervous in my life!"

"It's going to be fine. You're going to be a grandmother!" he turned to leave but stopped himself in the doorway. "Oh and Isobel?"

He didn't give her the chance to reply before pressing her firmly against the wall in a fierce kiss. She moaned softly, her surprise giving way to desire as she felt the heat of his body against hers, the urgency of his lips on her mouth. It was a dangerous act; they had told no one about their relationship and hospital was crawling with nurses and patients who might interrupt at any moment.  
"I love you," he whispered, pulling abruptly away and exiting the storeroom as quickly as he had entered.

* * *

"I wish Matthew was here," groaned Mary, shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, believe me, you won't be saying that when it's happening," said Isobel. She had been at Mary's bedside since she had arrived, fussing in her best nurse-like manner. Richard had decided to leave her to it – Mary had asked specifically to see Isobel and she was the best person to reassure her.

"Why was I so stupid? I should never have gone up north."

"The baby will be fine. A little early maybe but we will just have to take extra care."

Mary smiled wearily, the pain worsening as her baby prepared itself to make its journey into the world. She was grateful for Isobel's presence – someone familiar and gentle to guide her through this.

Richard had appeared at the door, giving Isobel a small nod as he watched Mary's discomfort grow. The moment had arrived. Isobel stood up, an excited grin on her face as nurses began to enter the room in preparation.

"Not long now," she said, smiling reassuringly and stroking Mary softly on the cheek. Richard felt a warm feeling in his stomach as he watched to two women share an oddly private moment in the crowded room. Isobel was a fantastic nurse but at this moment in time, she needed to be a mother-in-law.

* * *

An hour later, Richard stood outside Lady Mary's room watching Isobel through the gap in the door. The birth had gone well, no complications at all and Mary had given birth to a healthy baby boy. Isobel had been overcome with emotion, tears of joy giving way to unrestrained laughter as she held her grandson for the first time.

Mary was asleep, exhausted after the birth, entrusting her son to Isobel until the others arrived; Matthew had called to say that he would be arriving on the next train. Isobel stood at the window, cradling the small bundle in her arms, a smile of pure bliss on her face. _My grandson_. She didn't think she would ever get tired of hearing those words.

Richard moved away, his heart full of emotion. It was a beautiful thing to see her so happy and know that he was part of the reason for that wonderful smile and the radiance that she exuded. He couldn't wait to tell the world about their engagement, but for now he would wait. This was the beginning of something new – things could only get better.


	8. Carefree

"Mother!"

Matthew bounded to the door of the hospital, where Isobel was waiting; impatient to throw her arms around him in the tightest embrace she could possibly give. They held each other for a long moment, knowing that once he stepped inside, his world would change forever. Isobel stroked his hair with tender hands, remembering how it used to feel when he was a child; still as soft and fair, but he fit perfectly into her arms back then. Now she was on tiptoe as he bent down to her, both of them realizing that he was too big now for her to hang on to forever.

"Go inside," she whispered in his ear, her voice rough with emotion. "He's beautiful."

"I'm scared, mother," he said, wishing he could just stay like this with his mother's arms around him, protecting him like she had since the day he was born.

"I'll always be here, my darling," she said, giving him one final kiss on the cheek before stepping back, allowing him to straighten up and gather his courage. "You may be a father now, but I will always be your mother. Never forget that."

"Can you do one thing for me?"

"Of course."

"Would you head up to the big house and distract everyone for half an hour or so? I would like some time alone with Mary and I know they will all be anxious to get down here."

"I'll go now. If you could let Dr Clarkson know where I am, I'll head off right away."

"And mother? I love you," he said, pausing briefly at the door. He didn't say it often enough but he hoped she knew that it was always true. She smiled, turning and blowing a kiss to him as she walked away, leaving him to face the future that lay through those hospital doors.

* * *

As soon as he saw the bundle cradled in Mary's arms, he knew he had lost his heart to this angel. _He is mine. _He was full of love; a burning, heavy love that started in the pit of his stomach and radiated out, illuminating him from within. Mary held the bundle towards him, encouraging him to take into his arms the small piece of perfection that they had created together.

"Meet your son," she smiled, still beautiful despite having just given birth hours before. Matthew took his child into his arms, cradling him as if he were the most precious thing on earth. How could something so small and delicate bring such joy into the world?

"He's perfection," he whispered. "And so are you. I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together, the three of us. Oh Mary, we are going to be so happy."

* * *

"Mr Crawley, your mother has just telephoned to say that she can't hold them off much longer. They're all impatient to meet the newest member of the family."

"Thank you, Dr Clarkson. I will head off right away," said Matthew, standing up and handing the baby back to Mary wistfully. "I wish I could stay longer, but we must share our joy."

"Don't worry, darling. And when you come back with the others, you must wait your turn. You've already seen him."

"Of course," Matthew smiled, pecking his wife on the cheek. "I will see you soon."

The drive back to Downton brought a sense of euphoria over Matthew that he had never felt before. It was a perfect day, all the colours of the world illuminated by the sun, the breeze bringing everything to life in its swift, gentle movement. He drove with top down of the car, his hair blowing wildly, making him feel in a way he had never felt before. He was on top of the world – nothing else mattered to him. He doubted that he had ever been so carefree in his life.


	9. Shatter

**A/N: I hope you're still enjoying this. Let me know how I'm doing! **

Richard sank to the floor, his body convulsing as he tried to hold back the tide emotion that threatened to engulf him. _Unidentified male, car crash, no chance of survival. _Where was Isobel?

The body had arrived at the hospital; a formality, as there was no way anyone could have sustained such internal damage and lived to tell the tale. There was bruising, a bit of blood - not much considering the extent of the injuries - but Richard had taken one look and ran straight into his office. The world shattered into a thousand pieces. It was Matthew Crawley.

_Isobel._

She was the one thought on his mind as he scrambled to his feet, trying to pull himself together. He had to get to her before the news travelled, before anyone at the big house found out. Shrugging on his coat, he left the office, ignoring the barrage of questions as the nurses demanded further instruction. _They can do whatever they please. I need to get to her before anyone else does. I need to be the one to tell her._

* * *

Crawley House was empty. Nobody had answered the door to his frantic knocking, feelings of despair washing over him once more. _Where are you Isobel? Where in the world are you? _He tried to stay calm, breathing slowly and deeply despite the racing of his heart and the dizziness taking over his brain. What if she had found out from somebody else?

"Richard?"

It was her voice, cheerful and warm greeting him from the end of the garden path. He hadn't even realized he had sunk down onto her front doorstep until he had to make the move to stand up and usher her quickly inside. _She doesn't know. I'm about to break her heart._

"I've just got back from the Abbey," she said, her voice light, but her eyes betraying suspicion. "What on earth were you doing on my doorstep?"

"I need to tell you something, Isobel. I suggest you sit down."

"Cup of tea?"

"No, Isobel. Please, just sit and listen to me."

He guided her to the chair nearest the fire, his hand in the small of her back. He hesitated, not quite sure what to say or do next. He had broken bad news to thousands of families over the years and it was never easy, but this was different. This was Isobel.

"Richard, please tell me what's going on. You're scaring me." Her hands were cold as he crouched down beside her, gently taking them into his own. He wanted to be on her level – he needed to be there to catch her when she fell.

"It's Matthew," he said, barely daring to look her in the eye. "There was a car crash and I'm afraid there was no way he could have survived it."

"Matthew's just been to see his newborn son, Richard. Don't be silly." Her face was unreadable, a perfect mask that showed no expression but fear flickered behind her eyes. She swallowed hard. "Why are you lying to me? Such awful lies…"

"I'm sorry, my darling. I truly am."

She stared into the distance, her hands clenching into fists, still covered by his. She blinked hard several times. He expected her to cry, to shake in the way he had seen her grieve before, but this was different. This was more alarming. No tears fell, no emotion registered on her face. She just continued to stare blankly as minute after long, painful minute dragged by.

"How's Mary?" she asked eventually, still not tearing her gaze away from the spot her eyes had latched on to, her face still not betraying any sign of emotion.

"Isobel…" he began, but couldn't find the words. If she broke down, if she sobbed until she couldn't breathe anymore, he could hold her and comfort her. If she screamed and cried until her throat was red and her lungs burned, he could whisper soothing words in her ear and stroke her hair until she fell asleep. But she did none of those things. She just sat and stared.

The telephone rang shrilly in the hallway, startling Richard but Isobel barely registered it. He wondered if he should answer it. Surely the news had reached the Abbey and everyone would be concerned for Isobel. He made to get up but she pulled him back down, looking at him for the first time since he'd broken the news.

"No," she whispered. "Not yet."

* * *

It took Richard several hours to persuade Isobel to get to her feet – she shook her head as if the idea terrified her, until eventually she gave in. She clung to his hand like a child as he led her upstairs, bewildered and anxious.

He left her alone to change into her night things while he went downstairs to prepare something for her to eat – she needed as much strength as she could get. He also took the time to use the telephone to leave a message at the big house, letting them know she was safe and holding up as well as could be expected.

He heard a sudden howl from upstairs; a noise so terrible and heart-wrenching that he dropped the tray he was carrying and ran. She was curled up on the floor of her bedroom, sobbing uncontrollably, her dress discarded next to her. She still wore her stockings and her slip but had not yet managed to get into her nightdress. The sight tore at Richard's heart; the elegant, proud woman he knew so well was broken, laying half-dressed on the floor, completely dependent on him to make it all better.

He lifted her into his arms and she offered no resistance. She fell limp against him, her hot breath ragged on his neck as she fought to breathe.

"Don't leave me… I can't be alone. Richard… please. Not even for a second," she choked out between sobs, her eyes pleading with him, breaking his heart afresh. "I promise, Isobel," he whispered, laying her down on her bed. "I promise."


	10. Darkness

**A/N: Apologies for the intense darkness, I just can't help it! As ever, feedback is greatly appreciated if you can spare a few minutes.**

It was the longest night that Richard had ever lived through. Isobel was inconsolable, but he tried his best, rubbing her shoulders, wiping the tears from her cheeks. _This has to be better than before. At least she is feeling now; grieving properly._ He had managed to get her into her nightdress, although she refused to get under the sheets. She lay curled up on top of them, her nightdress hitched up above her knees as she sobbed into her arms.

Richard lay down beside her, holding her tight against him, his head buried in the softness of her hair. He could feel the strength draining from her body as she let him calm her with his touch. If they stayed like this long enough, maybe she would fall asleep.

The hours passed, Isobel drifting in and out of consciousness as she began to let the waves of sleep take her. He covered them both with a blanket that she kept in the wardrobe and watched her breathing slow as she fell deeper and deeper, unable to resist the pull of the tide any longer.

* * *

The morning sun was warm – too warm – and she shifted uncomfortably in his arms. After she had fallen asleep, Richard had stayed with her, watching her every movement until he eventually succumbed to his own restless dreams. They lay together in a tangle of limbs on top of Isobel's bed sheets, not sure where one person began the other ended.

He felt her move and was quickly alert, waiting tentatively for the moment when her memories would flood back and grief would take her once again. Nothing.

"Isobel?"

He propped himself up on his elbow to get a better look at her. She was crying silently, tears pooling in the crook of her elbow where it covered her face, but she was altogether calmer than she had been the night before. She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands before turning to face him, his arms still protectively around her.

"Thank you for last night," she said, her voice hoarse from all the sobbing, red rims around her eyes. "You must think I'm an awful state."

"I think nothing of the sort. And you don't need to thank me. It's what I'm here for."

She sighed, closing her eyes again against the bright morning light. Her head hurt from all the crying. Exhaustion ran through every vein in her body and she wondered how she would ever find the strength to get through the day. _I can't even cry anymore,_ she thought with a moan of despair. _I have nothing left to give._

"Come with me downstairs, Isobel. I can make you some breakfast," he suggested, gently disentangling himself from her as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. He hadn't forgotten his promise that he wouldn't leave her alone but he began to question the practicality of it; someone needed to get things done and he doubted Isobel had the strength or the inclination. They couldn't lie in bed all day or they would both starve to death.

Isobel stiffened, fear etched onto her face at the idea of getting up to start the day - her first day without her son. _I can't. I can't do this._

"Isobel?"

"Please… Don't make me." She was becoming anxious and agitated and all Richard wanted to do was fold her back in his arms and keep her safe. He was torn.

"My darling," he whispered, kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in his. "We can't stay here all day. It will only get worse."

"It can't get any worse."

In the end, she followed him nervously down to the kitchen looking so small and vulnerable he could barely stand to look at her. She stood in the doorway as he searched the cupboards for something edible, her arms wrapped around herself and looking around her kitchen as if seeing it for the first time.

They sat at the table in silence, a plate of burned toast between them. She didn't eat more than a few bites, although that didn't surprise Richard. He wasn't hungry himself but it was important to keep a routine to stop her falling into the darkness she was so dangerously close to. He reached across the table, his fingers closing around hers.

"You're an incredible woman, Isobel," he said, squeezing her hand. "I admire you and I want you to know that no matter how tough things are, I will be here. You won't be alone through any of this."

"I don't feel incredible. I'm falling apart, Richard," she sighed wearily. "Things were getting better, I was so happy. Now look at me."

"All I can see is a beautiful woman who has seen too much sadness recently. That's not a crime. You never have to hide anything from me – nothing you can say or do will turn me away now."

"You're too kind. You should run away while you can," she said, a tired smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. Richard felt a sudden swell of love in his heart. He needed to be the one to get her through this. It had seemed impossible last night and first thing this morning, but as the sun rose higher, so did Richard's resolve. He wouldn't let her slip away. He couldn't.


	11. Secrets

In the end, it was Lady Edith who broke the silence between Isobel and the big house. The funeral had been and gone in a haze of grief, Isobel refusing to have anything to do with anyone at the Abbey. She wouldn't return their phone calls, refused their offers of dinner and wouldn't accept a role in the planning of the funeral.

"Don't you want a say?" Richard had asked one evening, exasperated. "He was your son, Isobel. Don't you want something in particular for him?"

"What I want," she replied evenly, "is for him to be alive. Spending hours pondering over flower choices is not going to change anything."

He had no answer for that. In a way, he supposed she was right.

...

"Cousin Isobel!" Lady Edith hammered insistently at the door. "No one has seen you since the funeral. I'm not leaving until I have seen with my own eyes that you are alright."

Isobel hadn't exactly been housebound but she had steered clear of the Abbey. With Richard's input, she had been eating regularly, dressing nicely and taking walks around the village. She had even gone with him to the hospital and he was encouraged to see her take an interest in some of the patients. There were still moments when he would see the darkness take hold of her, a momentary blankness in her expression but it would pass. She cried still, usually on a morning when the day was painfully bright and new but he would help her through it. Slowly but surely, he could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

"We have to answer the door," said Richard, taking Isobel's face in his hands. He could see her anxiety growing again and he stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. "Give her five minutes?"

Isobel nodded, crossing her arms tightly across her chest as Richard moved to open the door.

"Cousin Isobel! Why on earth have you hidden away from us?" gushed Lady Edith, reaching out to take Isobel by the hand. Isobel flinched away.

"I wouldn't say I've hidden," she replied tersely. Richard looked from one to the other, registering the look of surprise on Edith's face. By contrast, Isobel looked stony, unreadable. _This is going to be awkward._

"You haven't seen the baby since the funeral. He's growing everyday – such a sweetheart. I know Mary is anxious to see you too."

"How is Mary?"

"She's holding up – she has to, I suppose. She's a wonderful mother."

"I'm sure she is."

"She's worried about you. We all are."

There was a heavy silence. Isobel wasn't asking the right questions.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Lady Edith? Heaven knows, I'm not a butler but I'm sure I can manage something you'd like?" Richard intervened. She was squirming under Isobel's gaze and he knew all too well how that felt, having been on the receiving end of it more times than he cared to remember.

"No thank you, Dr Clarkson. I only came to see that Cousin Isobel was alright and I can see you've been doing a fine job of looking after her."

He blushed furiously, realizing that everyone must have been talking about them. He wondered for a moment whether to try and defend himself, but he thought better of it. It would be useless. He was also proud of how he'd looked after her – it had taken endless patience that he doubted he would be capable of showing anyone else. He would take Edith's comment as a compliment.

"You're welcome up at the house at any time. Do come and see the baby." Lady Edith paused for a moment, waiting for Isobel's acknowledgement but it didn't come. She smiled awkwardly at Richard. "I'd better be going."

...

"What on earth was that, Isobel?" he snapped as soon as the door had closed. Her expression was still cold and he didn't like it. "They're your family. I don't understand why you suddenly have something against them."

She shrugged, turning away from him.

"Leave me alone, Richard."

"You don't mean that. Tell me what's wrong."

She stood perfectly still. Something about her scared him. Of course, he was used to being on the receiving end of her sharp tongue and had seen her in some unpleasant moods before. But this was different. She was cold and unfeeling – something had changed between them.

"I want to understand, but I can't if you don't tell me."

"Please, Richard. Leave me alone."

* * *

His house was cold. It had been unlived in for several weeks and after the warmth and comfort of sharing Isobel's bed, his own was empty and bare in comparison. He couldn't stand being away from her, especially when there was something so terribly wrong. Lady Edith's visit had changed something in her – she had been anxious and he made her face it. Maybe it was his fault.

He rolled onto his back, kicking at the cold sheets as they tangled around his legs. She had always been a difficult person but after his proposal, he thought he understood. She was vulnerable and afraid – everything else was just a front. He wondered if she thought she'd let him in too far.

It had almost killed him to leave her, his legs shaking as he walked down her garden path. He had promised to be there however and whenever she needed him but now she was pushing him away. She didn't watch him leave. She stood silently in the living room, refusing to look at him or acknowledge him. He had no choice but to go.

As sleep started to wash over him, another promise echoed in his mind.

_"Don't leave me, Richard. I can't be alone. Not even for a second"_

_"I promise, Isobel. I promise."_


	12. Too Late

**A/N: This was very difficult to write, so I hope I've done okay. Your reviews are wonderful, so don't be afraid to let me know what you think/what you would like to see. Thank you for all your support so far. I hope I'm still keeping you all happy (well maybe not after this, but we'll see!).**

Morning had arrived in a burst of warm sunlight, sweat trickling down Richard's back, his forehead damp and sticky. He finally conceded defeat and got up at least an hour earlier than he had intended, wondering if it was too early to visit Crawley House. He didn't care if she didn't want to see him; he was never leaving her again.

The air was unusually stifling. He wondered if a thunderstorm was on the way as he pulled on his jacket and headed out into the heavy morning air. The walk was pleasant and helped him to clear his mind.

He would tell her in no uncertain terms that he was never leaving her side even if she begged and pleaded. He could not face another night like last night, tossing and turning, wrapped up in a thick haze of guilt. A promise was a promise and he had broken the most important one he had ever made.

* * *

When he arrived at Crawley House, he noticed the garden gate was swinging loosely on its hinges. Had he forgotten to close it last night or had Isobel come out looking for him? He doubted that he had forgotten - he was usually so careful about it. _Oh, God. I hope you haven't done something stupid, Isobel._

There was no answer when he knocked at the door. After several minutes, a sickening wave of dread washed over him as it became clear that something was wrong – Isobel was not at Crawley House. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Where on earth could she be?

Tentatively, he tried the handle, not wanting to burst into the house unannounced in case he was wrong. It didn't budge at first but he remembered Isobel's frustration sometimes when the wood of the door swelled in the heat - it took a bit of strength to open and she was quite a small woman. Pushing his shoulder firmly against it, he tried the handle again and used his weight to push at the door. After a few anxious moments, it worked. She hadn't locked the door last night.

"Isobel," he called out, knowing deep down that the place was empty. He didn't expect a response but he moved cautiously through the house anyway. Nothing was out of place but he couldn't see anything to suggest that she had been around this morning – until he went into the sitting room.

There was a note addressed to him. The handwriting was achingly familiar, his name written on the envelope in her delicate, swirling style. Heart thumping in his chest, he opened it, his knees refusing to support his body, as he slowly understood what was happening.

_My dearest Richard,_

_I hope you aren't too angry with me. I was probably out of order yesterday, I'm not really sure. I'm not sure of anything anymore so I hope you'll accept my reasons for what I'm about to do. _

_You've been so kind to me – too kind, I daresay - and I cannot continue to test your patience the way I have been recently. You deserve better than anything I can give you. I've been too damaged by recent events and it would be unfair of me to stay here and expect you to pick up the pieces of my life. That is why I'm leaving. In the long run it will be better for us both. I cannot bear to drag you down with me – I hope you understand that, Richard. _

_You have been so selfless in your love and patient beyond words with me and I know that I don't deserve it. Your values are too good and honest – I have been harboring some terrible thoughts recently about the people who should mean the most to me and I can't expect you to accept it and turn against your own morals. You were right when you said I had something against the rest of the family. I should have told you sooner but I was afraid of how you would judge me._

_Before coming to Downton, I was happy. It was just Matthew and I, but things were good. Then I received a telegram from his Lordship and since then my world has been upside down. I had to watch my son change into someone unrecognizable in order to become a suitable heir, in order to win over Mary. I fought battles with almost everyone in the family, I fought battles with myself but I couldn't stop any of it happening. _

_I fell in love with you; it was the happiest I've been in a long time but it was still completely unexpected – it was overwhelming and confusing. As you very well know, I struggled a lot with how I was feeling. I was lost, unable to do anything but accept whatever came my way. You helped me through it and I thought things were going to be all right. But they weren't. They aren't._

_I can't pretend that I don't feel some resentment to the people who changed my life for the worse. They didn't want to welcome me, they didn't want to like me and I realize that the relationships I may have forged with them were entirely for Matthew's benefit. I don't have to be here anymore and I don't have to like them. If it weren't for them, Matthew and I would still be in Manchester, living our lives – that's the way it should have been._

_I have a grandson now and I can't bear to be in the same room as him. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? It's not just the people I would have to face in order to see him that make me anxious. It's the thought that I might see Matthew's eyes or a familiar expression on his face – I'm just not ready to face things like that yet. I know it's wrong and I'm selfish but I have never been more scared in all my life. It would be better if I cut my ties altogether. That way, no one will have to deal with the mess I have become._

_I know what you would say to me. You would say that I'm selfish and the only victim in this is the baby. I understand that, but I'm just not strong enough now, Richard. I've been through too much and I can't take any more._

_I'm tired of feeling lost and out of control. This way, I can make a new life for myself where nobody knows anything about me. I'm not sure yet where I will go but I doubt that I will write to you, or anyone else for that matter. It's not out of cruelty or spite – it would be better if everyone forgot about me and moved on with their lives. Please don't try to contact me._

_You are one of the few things I don't regret. Think fondly of me from time to time._

_With love,_

_Isobel._

He stood in the small sitting room, where had spent many an evening with Isobel in front of the fire. The world spun as he clutched the note in trembling hands, tears clouding his vision as he read the last few lines. She was gone and he was never going to hear from her again – that beautiful, maddening woman that he would die for in an instant.

She was right; he would have tried to persuade her to make peace with the family but not if he had known how much pain it would cause her. He had seen her anxiety around Edith, the hostility she had shown towards her and he had judged her without hearing her explanation. Her fear and resentment were understandable. She did not want to be around the people who had brought Matthew here, who had taken him away from her and who would remind her of what she had lost for the rest of her life.

She was alone and she was afraid. He had to find her before it was too late.


	13. Family

"Gone?" Mary repeated, sinking into the chair behind her.

"I'm sorry, Lady Mary. I wish I could tell you where and how but I'm afraid I can't."

Richard had always found the Abbey intimidating and he had certainly not been looking forward to this visit. He'd tried his best to track her down alone, asking around the village, checking the train station and the hospital, but eventually he had to concede that Lord Grantham was his best option; he had contacts and powers of persuasion that he could only dream of. Going to the big house was his only choice – it was the last thing Isobel would want him to do, but if he had any chance of finding her, this was it.

"Did she leave a note?"

"She did, but it wasn't helpful. She just said that she was leaving and that we weren't to contact her."

"Poor Cousin Isobel. Edith said she had been a bit strange but looked well despite everything," said Mary looking down at her hands. "I wish I'd gone to see her myself."  
"Don't worry about that. Nothing could have changed her mind once it was made."

"I know that," she said, smiling softly. "I wish I could help."

"Actually, Lady Mary, I came to speak to your father. I'd rather hoped that he might have some suggestions."

"No one knew her better than you, Dr Clarkson."

He felt himself flush at the suggestion behind Mary's words. She looked at him, amused.

"I'll go get my father if you want, but I still think that you know best."

…

"If you have no idea where she may have gone, Dr Clarkson, then I'm afraid it's like finding a needle in a haystack," said Lord Grantham, frowning.

"She didn't say anything at all. I have absolutely no idea."

"Come on, Dr Clarkson!" Mary insisted. "She must have mentioned places that were important to her. Where would she go when she had nowhere else?"

Richard thought for a moment. Mary was right; he did know Isobel better than anyone else but that didn't mean he had any idea what was going through her mind right now. She kept so much hidden inside and that was what had caused all of this in the first place.

"I'm sorry, I just don't know."

"I can start some inquiries but I daresay it will be a long and difficult process. Let's not get our hopes up."

"She's George's grandmother, papa! We have to find her," Mary looked imploringly at her father. "Can't you call the hospitals in York or Manchester? I bet she's gone looking for work somewhere."

"As I said, Mary, I can put out some inquiries…"

"Manchester…" Richard repeated slowly.

"What is it, Dr Clarkson? Do you remember?" asked Mary, sitting forward on the edge of her seat in excitement.

"It may be nothing, but she went to Manchester a while ago for various reasons and I'm aware that she visited a hospital. She used to work there with her husband."

"Maybe they know something!"

"Mary, will you please calm down?" said Lord Grantham sternly. "It's definitely a place to start. I'll give them a call and I will let you know if and when I find anything out."

"Thank you, Lord Grantham. I hope you understand how important it is we find her, for her own sake as well as for the rest of the family."

"I do, Dr Clarkson. Fingers crossed that we can bring her to her senses before it's too late."

…

"Dr Clarkson!"

Richard was halfway down the drive, his shadow stretched out in front of him as the sun sank lower in the sky. He was not at all hopeful, but he didn't have anything else to cling on to. He was lost without her; his days no longer had any meaning when she wasn't there to share them.

"Do you want to see George?"

Mary had caught up with him, breathless and carrying a bundle of blankets in her arms. He hadn't seen the baby since the day he was born; he had been too busy caring for Isobel.

"Of course," said Richard, taken aback by Mary's sudden appearance. He hadn't had time to reflect on the birth of the baby after everything that had happened, but as Mary stood in front of him, holding her child out to him, he felt a mixture of emotions wash over him. He had known Mary since she had been a little girl, stubborn and difficult but sweet and kind in turn – and here she was with a baby of her own.

"Time passes quickly," he said, peering into the bundle that he held expertly in his arms. He had held many babies during his years at the hospital, but none had made him feel quite like this. This was Mary's baby, the girl he had watched grow up into a beautiful, elegant young woman – and it was Isobel's grandson, the woman he loved more than anything in the world.

"He's lost his father, Dr Clarkson," said Mary quietly. "I think he needs his grandmother now more than ever. We need to get her back."

"I agree, Lady Mary," he replied, stroking the baby's cheek with a gentle finger.

"I think you need her too."

Richard didn't reply. He stood cradling Isobel's grandson in his arms, not daring to speak in case he blurted out everything that was on his mind.

"I don't need any persuading to find her, Lady Mary. I just need help to do it," he said eventually.

"We'll do it together."

They stood there for a moment, the warm breeze whispering in the leaves all around them. _You're wrong, Isobel,_ thought Richard. _The family do care about you. _He looked down at the child in his arms – the child that she was so scared of seeing in case he made her feel. _You think that coming to Downton brought you misery? I am going to find you, Isobel Crawley and I will show you exactly what you have to live for._


	14. Clean Break

**A/N: I'm not at all happy with this but I had to keep writing. It was a scene I've been dreading, so I'm glad it's done! Your feedback and reviews are fantastic, so keep them coming. I hope you're still enjoying this as much as I am writing it and hopefully my writing will be better than this in future chapters. As I say, I don't think I've done it justice but here it is:**

The bedroom was small and bare: it was not at all what she was used to. She sat alone at the small desk, a pen in her hand, staring blankly at the page in front of her. Her hair fell around her shoulders in ringlets and she twirled a strand nervously between her fingers. _You said you wouldn't write, Isobel. You need a clean break._

The past few days had been lonely: she had barely spoken to anyone, let alone had a decent conversation. She wasn't sure that she liked it. At first, she found the liberation of being away from Downton a relief: she didn't have to explain herself to anyone anymore. Now, the loneliness had started and in some ways, she felt homesick - homesick for Crawley House, for the Abbey, for Richard.

She stood up with a sigh, placing the pen firmly down on the desk. _Not today. _

* * *

"Manchester? A few days ago?"

The phone didn't ring very often in Richard's house, but every time it did, he nearly jumped out of his skin. His first thought was always of Isobel: what if she called and he missed it? What if she was in trouble?

Since his visit to the Abbey, he had also been anticipating Lord Grantham or Lady Mary calling and this put him on edge even more. Today, it had finally happened.

"Apparently so," said Lady Mary. "They refused to tell Papa where she was staying or how long for, but it's something at least."

"If I go in person, they will have to tell me!"

"I don't think they will tell you anything. She was there to pick up some references and it sounds as though she was leaving as soon as that was done."

"Maybe she's still there?"

"Maybe, but how are you going to find her?"

Richard could feel frustration building deep within. She had been there – back to the hospital in Manchester. She was intending to find work somewhere else if she was picking up references: she wasn't going to stay where he might go looking for her.

"I have to try."

"I will keep badgering Papa but he seems to think there's nothing more we can do. How about I call some of the hospitals in London or Paris? She's worked there in the past. Maybe they would take her back at short notice?"

"Anything is better than nothing, Lady Mary. I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help."

"You're not alone, Dr Clarkson. We all want her back."

Richard swallowed hard, his emotions rising to the surface. He didn't just want her back - he needed her back.

"Call me when you get to Manchester," said Lady Mary. "I won't be able to reach you otherwise."

"I will. I'm not going to give up on her."

"That's good to hear."

* * *

The train journey was long and tiring. Richard hadn't slept properly in days – in fact, he hadn't really slept since she'd gone. It occurred to him that he must look a state - he was exhausted and hadn't shaved or eaten properly in days – but as he approached the hospital, he decided he couldn't care less. This was perhaps his only chance to find her and he couldn't mess it up.

The hospital was unlike the one back at Downton. It was large, bustling and to his mind, very impersonal. He couldn't imagine Isobel working in a place like this, where time and manners seemed to be luxuries rather than necessities, where everything was so cold and sterile.

"Can I help you?"

The woman at the reception desk was small and sharp featured; her voice was high-pitched and accented with something that Richard could not quite put his finger on – Scottish maybe. She was dressed in white, her desk neatly organized without a stray piece of paper in sight.

"I'm looking for someone. I wondered if you could help me?"

"Name?" the woman asked briskly.

"Not a patient. I'm looking for Isobel Crawley."

"Not this again," said the woman with a sigh, rolling her eyes. "I was on the phone for twenty minutes yesterday morning trying to explain to a Lord Grantham that I am not at liberty to discuss such matters."

"You do know though? Can't you at least tell me if she's still in the area?"

"Please, Mr…" she tailed off as she realized she didn't know his name.

"Dr Clarkson. Mrs Crawley is a colleague of mine and I'm concerned for her wellbeing," he added with a little more authority. He had noticed that the woman had straightened up slightly at the mention of his title.

"As a doctor, you should know the importance of confidentiality in a hospital. I simply cannot go giving out information about people – employees, patients or otherwise."

Richard sighed. There was no cracking this woman – she was made of stern stuff and he could see that there would be no getting through to her. He could try appealing to her better nature, but he wasn't sure she had one and he was wasting time. As long as Isobel was out there, he had to keep looking – he didn't have time to argue.

"I've travelled all the way here. Please just tell me if she's still here?"

"I'm sorry, Dr Clarkson. I can't tell you anything. Good day."

She turned away from him, efficiently and angrily shuffling papers, leaving Richard no other option but to walk away. Leaving the hustle and bustle of the hospital behind, he felt a wave of despair in his stomach. Lady Mary had been right, they wouldn't tell him anything and now they were back where they had started.

* * *

The platform was busy when he arrived; the last train to London was boarding the last of its passengers - everyone trying to squeeze in rushed goodbyes before the whistle blew. Richard made his way over to a nearby bench, sitting down with a heavy heart. He hated to leave Manchester without even knowing if she was still there but it was impossible to search the entire place alone.

He had called Lady Mary as soon as he had left the hospital but she had no news. The conversation had been short and depressing and had left Richard feeling even more disheartened. Maybe they would never find her. It was a reality that was beginning to sink in more and more as the days wore on, but he didn't think he could ever accept it. He would live out the rest of his days wondering whether she had managed to find happiness wherever she had gone. Maybe she would find another man – a kind doctor who would look after her the way he should have and not let her go.

A flash of colour caught his eye in the first class compartment. Purple. She looked so lovely in purple and yet he had never managed to tell her – another regret. He hadn't realized but he had stood up, walking slowly towards the train, drawn to the colour like a magnet.

"Isobel!"

She turned at the sound of his voice, her eyes wide in shock.

"Isobel! Oh, my darling Isobel!" He pressed himself against the train window, unable to reach her but so desperately close. She turned her face away, as if she could ignore his presence.

"Just get off the train! Talk to me!"

He was becoming frantic now as he realized their reunion was not what he had imagined through these long, lonely days without her. She didn't want to be found and she was not going to come running straight back into his arms. _I'm going to lose her forever. _

He felt a pair of strong arms around his shoulders, as a red-faced guard pulled him away from the train.

"Do you have a first class ticket, sir?" he asked accusingly, dragging him further and further away from Isobel.

"No, I'm not even going to London. I just need to talk to her," Richard panted, struggling against his captor. Isobel had moved away from the window and he could no longer see her in the compartment.

"The train is about to depart. We can't have people creating a scene, so if you would kindly stay away or I will have to call the police."

Somewhere on the platform, a whistle blew and as the guard let go of Richard's shoulders, the train puffed a billow of white smoke into the air before slowly pulling away. Richard's knees went weak, tears pricking at his eyes as he stood helplessly, watching the train disappear into the distance. He had missed his chance, the memory of her turning away from him burning itself forever into the forefront of his mind.


	15. Change of Heart

**A/N: Very short update. Combination of illness and lack of inspiration/confidence in my writing has made it very difficult for me to continue :( I couldn't leave it unresolved however, so here's the next ****instalment. **

The smoke cleared from the platform, as he stood staring out into the distance. He didn't dare move; he didn't think that his legs would support him if he did, still shaking in frustration and despair.

"Richard?"

The voice was small and timid but unmistakably hers. He turned to see her standing there, looking a little tired and thin, but still just as beautiful. She fidgeted nervously, not looking him in the eye, but instead stared at the ground; for the first time in her life, Isobel Crawley was shy.

"Isobel?" Richard's voice didn't come out properly – it was more of a choked sob. He didn't dare to believe that she was here; she had gotten off the train and chosen to come back to him. He must be hallucinating or dreaming.

"I just couldn't do it," she said simply with a small shrug. "When I saw you there, I tried to turn away but it just didn't feel right. The whole time I've been away, it's all been wrong; my life without you is wrong."

Richard didn't know what to say. Certainly over the last few days he had started to believe that maybe Isobel would be better off without him. He wanted her back more than anything, but she had taken his heart when she'd left. He was afraid – he didn't think he could stand it if she were to leave again.

"Are things really that simple?"

"No," she replied. "Nothing is ever that simple, especially not in my life. I understand if you don't want me back but I'm coming to Downton with you today."

"Are you sure it's what you want?"

"I thought it was a place full of bad memories and people who dislike me, but while that's true, I overlooked the positives. I have a life there. I have good friends, a job and whether I like it or not, a caring family, who I know will look after me."

"That's a very sudden change of heart, Isobel," said Richard.

"I know," she replied with a sigh, her eyes meeting his for the first time. "I've been so lonely over the last few days and it made me realize what I have back at Downton."

"That's good to hear," he said with a smile.

They stood awkwardly from a moment, not sure what to say next. They both had so much to say but somehow, none of it was appropriate for a train station platform in the middle of Manchester. Instead, they smiled, enjoying the easiness of each other's company; it was almost as if Isobel had never been away.

"Here's the train," said Richard, gesturing along the track. "May I?"

He offered his arm to her and she took it gratefully, reveling in the pleasure of having a warm body pressed next to hers again.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look in purple?" he said, helping her step on to the train as it pulled into the station.

"Thank you," she smiled, not letting go of his hand as he boarded the train himself. They walked hand in hand until they found seats together, not letting go even as they sat down.

"I intend to tell you how beautiful you are every single day," said Richard, squeezing her hand tightly, losing himself for a moment in those eyes that he had missed so much.

"So you'll have me back?"

"As if you doubted it for a moment, Isobel."

He smiled a genuine smile, their fingers still entwined as she pressed her lips gently upon his. Nothing had changed.

**Let me know what you think; this is getting difficult now!**


	16. Acceptance

**A/N: Nearing the end now! One or two more chapters to go. As always, make my day and review :)**

"Today will be difficult," he whispered, breathing in the scent of her, his nose buried in her hair. They had spent the night in Crawley House, curled up by the fire - just talking. She had fallen asleep not long before the sun came up with her head on his chest, her fists curled in his shirt like a child, and nothing in the world could have persuaded him to move.

"I know," she replied, her warm breath tickling his chest. Their talk had not been easy – blame and guilt were still prevalent, even as they'd walked hand in hand from the station.

"Are you ready?"

It was Richard's ultimatum. Things could progress between them but only with the blessing and support of the family, and that of course meant going to see them. Isobel was eager to atone for the hurt she'd caused but he could see the doubt behind her eyes even as she'd agreed.

She nodded against his chest. "As ready as I'll ever be."

He kissed the top of her head, admiring her bravery.

"Get ready, my love. I told Lady Mary we would be there before lunch."

"Oh no, they're not expecting me to stay? I don't think I can," she said, sitting upright. "It's hard enough as it is without the formalities of lunch."

"Don't worry about that now. We'll stay as long as you want. They know what you've been through and it may surprise you Isobel, but they understand."

"I doubt that."

"I think you've got them all wrong," he said, standing up and taking her hands. "But for now, go and tidy yourself up. We'll be the talk of the village if you go out with your hair like that!"

She swatted him lightly, trying to duck out of his way as he pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. She giggled as he drew her into his arms, her laughter the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"My brave girl," he whispered in her ear. "My beautiful, brave girl."

* * *

As he had expected, Isobel had fretted and fussed the whole way to the big house. She was jumpy and nervous, still looking tired and worn from her sleepless nights in Manchester.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" he asked, taking her arm as they neared the entrance.

"You're the one making me do it," she retorted, but he could see the humour behind her eyes. She was nervous – he felt her grip tighten on his arm and she bit her lip anxiously – but she was stronger than she had been before. He had faith.

"Good morning, Mrs Crawley."

"Good morning, Mr Carson. I believe they're expecting me?"

"They are indeed," replied Mr Carson, his stance unnervingly stiff as usual. The butler was notoriously unreadable, his tone and expression never changing, no matter the situation. "Lady Mary is waiting for you in the library."

"Thank you."

"See," whispered Richard as they entered the house, led by Mr Carson. "It's not so difficult."

"I've only encountered the butler so far," she replied, taking a deep breath before following Carson into the library. "Hardly the part I was dreading."

Isobel tensed as soon as she entered. Lady Mary was waiting for her, a small bundle on her lap.

"Hello, Cousin Isobel," she said gently, without looking up. Instead, she stared down at the baby cradled on her knee, gently stroking his head, teasing his tiny fingers. Richard watched anxiously; Isobel was frozen to the spot.

Mary didn't make any move to approach Isobel – instead she sat calmly, a small smile on her face as she waited. Richard understood why moments later, when he looked at Isobel and he could see that the fear had gone, replaced by curiosity. She couldn't resist the small bundle on Mary's lap and he knew that her anxiety was diminishing by the second. After a few moments, he gently put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward and she didn't resist at all.

"Do you want to hold him?" Mary asked as Isobel came closer, peering tentatively at the child. "He's bigger than when you first held him in the hospital."

Isobel looked at Richard, who nodded his encouragement.

"He's heavy," remarked Isobel, taking the solid weight of the child in her arms. "Just like Matthew when he was this age."

"He's going to be a sturdy little boy," said Mary.

"I thought it would be the worst thing to see any resemblance of Matthew in him," said Isobel quietly, not taking her eyes off the baby for a moment. "But it's actually quite a comfort."

Mary caught Richard's eye, hardly daring to believe their luck. Isobel had accepted the baby remarkably quickly and seemed at ease with him in her arms. She was smiling down at him, saying and doing all of the grandmotherly things they were afraid she wouldn't be able to.

"I'm glad you came back," said Mary, looking straight into Isobel's eyes. "Not only for George's sake. You're part of the family."

"I'm glad I came back," said Isobel, smiling at both Mary and Richard, before turning her attention back to the baby. "Look at what I would have missed out on. He's perfect."

"It was Dr Clarkson who did all the hard work," said Mary with a mischievous grin. "What exactly is going on between you two?"

Nobody answered, Isobel's eyes wide in surprise. Richard stood awkwardly, unsure where to look or what to say. He noticed a flush of colour in Isobel's cheeks.

"I won't say anything," said Mary, still smiling. She was clearly enjoying her teasing.

Richard glanced at Isobel, wondering what to say for the best. She caught his eye and gave him a slight nod – this was it.

"We're engaged," he said at last, looking at his feet. "I know it must seem very sudden and it's not exactly –"

"Oh, congratulations!" said Mary, jumping to her feet and hugging Isobel. "It's about time! We've all been waiting for ages!"

"Really?" said Isobel, puzzled.

"Of course," said Mary, leaning over to shake Dr Clarkson's hand. "Do you want to stay for lunch and break the good news?"

"We'd better be going –" began Dr Clarkson, feeling that they had already gone too far.

"No, let's stay," said Isobel, smiling broadly. Mary's reaction had given her hope and she had no desire to let go of George yet – they had a lot of lost time to make up for. "I'm still getting to know my grandson."

Richard looked at her in surprise – it was only a matter of hour ago she had been begging him not to make her come at all. Oh, how quickly things changed.

"I'll let everyone know you're staying," said Mary. "I can't wait until they hear the news!"


	17. Epilogue

**A/N: Here's the final instalment. I hope I've kept as many people happy as possible with this.**

He had waited so long for this.

"I love you, Mrs Richard Clarkson," he whispered, laying her down on the bed. He had carried her over the threshold and up the stairs, her face buried in his neck, her smile pressed to his skin.

"I love you too," she replied, looking at the ring on her finger. "I can't believe we've done it, after everything that happened."

"I'm so proud of you," he said, leaning over to take her bottom lip in his mouth. She tasted sweet, like vanilla.

"Is this happy ever after?" she asked, running her nails lightly down the delicate skin on the back of his neck. He shuddered at her touch, moaning softly against her mouth. She giggled. "I'll take that as a yes."

He moved over her, his hands paying attention to undressing her, while his mouth searched out the most sensitive places on her jawline. She writhed beneath him, gasping in pleasure. His hands brushed the sensitive skin on her belly, both soothing and exciting her at the same time; his fingertips were soft and warm, expertly exploring every inch of her.

"Isobel," he whispered against her jaw. "Stop me if it's too much."

She paused, taking his face in her hands. He had never seen a more tender look in those beautiful brown eyes and he relaxed instantly. He knew what she wanted – what she needed. He tilted his head to kiss the inside of her wrist, to feel her pulse against his mouth.

"It will never be too much," she said, brushing her fingertips across his lips, holding the intense eye contact. "It will never be _enough_. I want everything from you."

He could feel a burning pleasure in the pit of his stomach as she continued to touch him gently, teasingly. It was almost to good to be true – she was here, like this, at last. He could barely speak; she had reduced him to this with her words and her touch and all he could do now was pray he wouldn't fall apart in her arms.

He felt her hot breath against his mouth, those sweet lips pressed against his in a passionate kiss, more urgent than before. Her hands efficiently removed clothing until they were both completely undressed, frantically kissing and touching every inch of bare skin that was exposed.

"Are you sure?" he whispered between the moans and gasps she elicited from him by nibbling her way down his collarbone. Her hands were touching him where he needed but he wanted her completely. She nodded, her eyes closed, lost in the pleasure he had stirred in her.

* * *

She lay in his arms, her head on his chest as their breathing slowly returned to normal. He twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers, unable to take his eyes off the woman in his arms that he now had the honour of calling his wife. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and she had created feelings in him that he didn't know he was capable of. Certainly, no one had made him feel like he had done tonight – a mixture of love and pleasure so strong it scared him. He loved her with a ferocity that he had never known before.

"My darling," he said, tilting her head back to look her in the eyes. "I can't tell you how much I love you, right now and forever more."

"I want to thank you," she said, closing her eyes as he stroked her hair. "You've made me happy when I didn't think I ever would be again. You changed everything and that's good."

"We've done well for two people who were trying not to change things."

"Sometimes change is good," she said, running her hand across his bare chest. He shivered, goose bumps rising on his skin.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Now, my dear husband," she said. "All that remains is for us to live happily ever after."

"I can't promise that," he chuckled. "The Dowager Countess is still around."

"Good point," she said with a laugh. "We can give it our best shot."

Richard looked down at his wife, her golden hair fanned out across his chest. After all they'd been through, it was nothing short of a miracle that they were lying together, content and laughing on their wedding night – anything was possible. Life might not be perfect, but they had each other and that was the most important thing – the first step towards happy ever after.

**A/N2: Thank you so much for reading my story and I am so grateful for the wonderful, amazing reviews and feedback I received. If you could spare the time for one more review and let me know what you think either of this chapter or the whole story now that it is completed, I would be so happy. As ever, don't be afraid to let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions for me for the future, get in touch :) I hope you've enjoyed it!**


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